


It's Clear To Me

by Basic_instinct40



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse - Fandom, The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basic_instinct40/pseuds/Basic_instinct40
Summary: How Amos finally understands his feelings for Prax.





	It's Clear To Me

Amos is drunk. Which is surprising since it took a lot for him to be drunk. He had long since stopped counting how many belter beers he had consumed and knew that the number of hard drinks had started to hit double digits.

He was well and truly fucked. 

The Roci and its crew were a taking a bit of shore leave after the events to help uncover the conspiracy war. While risking their own necks helping out Chrisjen had given each member of the crew a clear name and a decent shot at legally keeping the Roci, there was still something missing for Amos. He guessed he was trying to find it in the whiskey bottle he was currently emptying.

Being station-side didn't suit Amos so well after a couple of days and he could chalk his drinking up to the itch of too many people, but he knew that the real reason laid somewhere on Ganymede. It had been 6 months since they had dropped off the Meng’s and Amos was surprised at the ache in his chest when he thought of them. Prax had shown him that there was more than the churn controlling the universe. He had helped a man find his daughter and gotten a best friend -- his first -- in the process. 

Since Prax had stepped into the crew's lives Amos had felt responsible for the scientist. He didn't know too many parents that would fight like hell to save their kid the way Prax was fighting. Amos knew too well what happened to little kids like Mei who slipped through the cracks of society. They got used up and spit out and when they found Prax, malnourished and half-crazed looking for canned chicken to give to a shakedown artist of a hacker, Amos knew he had to help him find Mei. By any means necessary. 

Amos taught him how to shoot a gun, how to strap his shit down in zero-g, and how the underbelly of the universe worked; but mostly he just talked to the man. He talked about anything and everything to keep Prax’s dark thoughts at bay. The botanist hardly slept and when he did his nights were plagued by nightmares of a lost Mei. Amos learned that Prax slept better in the common room in one of the crash couches, falling asleep to Amos’ yammering about railgun maintenance. 

Finding Mei had been one of the few accomplishments that Amos could point to in his life with pride. The days spent with Mei and Prax aboard the Roci brought him more pleasure than booze and fighting ever could. He couldn’t explain what drew him to these two. It was the same with Alex, Noami, and Holden. When you clicked you clicked. Asking why was a waste of oxygen.

Amos remembered their goodbyes on Ganymede Station; Prax taking Amos aside and telling him in his quiet, intense voice, “Not sure how I'll get on without you talking to me all day,” making Amos laugh. Prax had seemed slightly embarrassed as he went on. “I’d like to continue,” he stammered out, “Talking with you, that is,” he finished. Amos could tell this took something for the other man to say to him, and once again Amos felt that ache in his chest that only seemed to happen around the Meng’s. 

He had clapped Prax a little too hard on the back, telling him, “Of course, buddy. I'm always somewhere.” He could tell that his response wasn't exactly what the scientist wanted to hear, but at the time Amos thought he could push down whatever it was he felt for the man. Amos didn’t even know what to call it so he might as well ignore the inklings. Amos had gotten back on the gunship he called home and didn't look back. He regretted the action every day since. 

Prax and the crew had spoken a handful of times, and each time Amos had popped in long enough to make sure the family of two were both doing alright physically, he then would make a questionable excuse about needing to be in the engine room. He did this enough that each member of the crew had commented on it. 

‘You act like you two weren't attached at the hip,” said Alex one night in his Martian drawl. The pilot was standing at the stove over a pot of pasta with enough fake cheese on it to drown out the taste of vat-grown chicken. “His face folds in every time you do your little disappearing act,” Alex continued, waving around a sauce laden spoon. 

“Yeah, I don't think the man routinely calls once every week just to talk to us,” Holden added, sitting down at the table with his plate. “We weren't even that nice to him.”

Naomi was the only one silent, but Amos could feel her eyes boring into him as he quietly ate his food.

Later on, she had found him in his room while he was winding down for bed. He had actually been on his terminal with a message open to Prax, but unlike their previous time together Amos was at a loss for words. He had been laying on his bunk trying to type something other than “Hey” when Naomi walked in. 

“I've been thinking,” she said with a hint of a smile. “We haven't had one of our famous heart-to-hearts in quite some time.” Naomi walked over to the bed telling him to “Scooch”. She laid down beside him, shoulder to shoulder and deeply breathed. 

Amos was a little put off by her closeness but decided to ignore it. “We have those?”, he asked while hiding his empty message from her sight. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said turning her face towards his. “You know like when we decided to not to space Jim all those times, or when I calm you down from beating someone to death,” she said, rolling her eyes. Amos knew she probably wanted to talk about earlier at dinner but wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. So he said nothing.  
Naomi let the silence ride between them before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Okay,” she said flatly, “What I’m trying to get at is that… you and I have been through some shit together. Even before the Cant got blown up and maybe the others can't see it, but...” Naomi faltered, wondering if this was the best way to go about the situation, “But,” she started again, rushing her words together faster. “I can tell you miss him.” 

Amos broke eye contact with her and stared at the bottom of the top bunk choosing to remain silent. 

Naomi didn't seem surprised by his reaction and continued. “I don’t know what went on between you two, and it’s not my business to know.” 

“No, it isn't,“ he interrupted, still not looking at her. 

“But,” she continued, acting as if she didn’t hear him. “I need you to know that you don't have to miss him, Amos. You walk around this world like nothing fazes you, and maybe much doesn't, but that isn't a way to live.” She put her hand on his arm slowly as if he might jump back. “Things go to shit all the time for people like us. We have to hold on to the people who make us give a damn.”

Amos knew her mind wasn’t only on the captain, but also on the little boy she had lost long ago. Naomi had told him about it only once when she had gotten very drunk. He had found her half-sitting up in some dive bar, fending off some belter guy who didn’t seem to understand the word “No”. 

“It’s my son’s birthday today,” she had told him after he told the guy to get lost and picked her up bridal style. He remembered the way her thin belter frame felt against his chest and her quiet cries over her son. They never spoke about it again. 

Amos grabbed her hand against his arm and squeezed it tight once. As much as he trusted Naomi he couldn't bring himself to let her in when it came to this. Him holding her hand was all he could give. She rested her head on his shoulder and they laid like that for a while. It felt like being back on the Cant in a way, before the war, before Holden. They had allowed themselves to gain a family on board the Roci, but had lost the simple intimacy between the two of them. Now they were only ever alone when something was broken in the engine room. 

He heard the panel to his room slide open and cursed Naomi for not locking it back. 

“Should I be worried?”, Holden asked standing over their bodies with a smile on his face.  
~

 

Amos walked into the brothel not even sure what his plans were there. He was a frequent flyer at the Hen House, but that didn't mean he was constantly buying. He enjoyed being around people who knew the game. There were no gray areas of morality or questions about your actions.

He walked past a couple of working guys and girls who gave him a once-over. Amos didn't try to flatter himself into thinking it was because he was good-looking. After Holden and the crews latest escapades, he was known around Tycho Station as more than a hired hand.

“The usual?”, the madam inquired, barely looking up from her terminal. 

Amos usually went for a more curvy woman -- as curvy as you can get growing up in the belt -- with dark features. He had visited the same woman the last couple of times he had stayed on the station, but tonight his mind drifted towards rougher hands and a firmer hold. 

“I was actually wondering about one of the fellows outside,” he said jerking his head towards the taller man who had caught his eye when he first came in. 

The madam managed to actually look up from her terminal this time, “Broadening our taste, I see”, she tittered with a small smirk.

“Is he free?”, he asked, not allowing himself to rise to the bait. Amos had never second-guessed himself on who he shared a bed with. He figured he took a shining to whomever he took a shining too. The fact that they weren't always female didn't matter to him.

“Room 32B,” the madam said, sliding him a key chip.   
He heard her shout “Joaquin” behind his back and for the first time since he had entered the brothel his body tensed up. It had been several months since he had been with another person. And much longer since he had been with a man. 

Amos took another pull off his whiskey bottle before touching the key chip to open the brothel room door. Another man stood at the center of the room and for a moment Amos allowed his mind to go there: Prax. While the man presently in front of him shared the same Asian background his skin was lighter and facial features not as gentle. His body longer and skinnier than Prax’s from growing up in low-g. The man, “Joaquin”, as the madam had called him, had a seductive smile and shaggy hair that curled around his collar. His had full lips and dark almond eyes. “Okay,” Amos said out loud before he could stop himself, “This will do.”

“Hahaha!”, Joaquin laughed. “I aim to please bossman,” he said sweeping his hands over his body. 

Amos walked towards the bedside table putting his drink down and sitting heavy on the bed. “So, this is what it’s come to,” he thought. “Finding a hooker who looks like your best friend. Well, okay, that was one way of dealing with things.” Amos felt strong hands rub across his shoulders and he allowed it to feel good, but only for a second. 

“Didn't say you could touch,” Amos said, establishing the man should know there would be boundaries. The hands disappeared and Amos turned around to put his feet on the bed. The other man, Joaquin, held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Alright, yeah,” he said with a thick belter accent, “You the bossman.”

Joaquin sat beside Amos making a show of keeping his hands to himself. Amos took a lay of the room: the patchy eggshell paint, the dim lighting, and every heavy object bolted down. Amos had grown up in rooms like these and found comfort in the shabby atmosphere where unspeakable acts occurred. Naomi, Alex, and Holden would never understand this part about him and that was alright with him. That part of his life was living in rooms like the one he was in currently. With Joaquin, who was now humming some song that Amos didn't know the tune of.

He turned and looked at Amos, giving him a sultry look that Amos was sure he practiced in the mirror. Joaquin wasn't a bad looking man, but on closer inspection, Amos could tell he was older and most likely only had a few years left of the game. Amos wasn't one to judge, but how un-like Prax, this stranger was bringing him down. He grabbed his bottle and took another long tilt off of it. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

“So,” Joaquin said, turning to look at Amos, “You book t‘is room to sit with pretty me all night long and drink?”

“Nope,” Amos said shortly. He moved his body closer to Joaquin. He may have been nervous, but since he couldn't remember what that feeling was supposed to mean he pushed through it. Right before he reached out to touch Joaquin he asked, “You okay with this?” He wasn't surprised to hear laughter from the man. It wasn't the first time one of the people he paid to spend time with had this reaction, but he likes to make sure that the consent was there. He knew how it could otherwise be.

“Yes, Tumang,” Joaquin said, using the belter term for Earther. “I’m okay.”

Amos nodded once and reached out for Joaquin's face. They kissed briefly at first then, small presses of their lips getting to know each other. With an expert flick of his tongue, Joaquin made things more heated and Amos allowed his drunk mind to be swept away. They soon were rolling across the bed, lazily fighting for dominance. Amos could feel himself growing hard and he was happy that he could finally switch to autopilot. This what he came for: All the ‘feelings shit’, he just needed to sweep under the proverbial rug and just get himself off. Joaquin reaches down to Amos’ crotch, grabbing ahold of his dick and giving it a tight squeeze. 

“You topside or bottom, bossman,” Joaquin asked, sitting up a little to look at him. 

Amos had been both at one time or other, but he didn't think tonight was the night to let a stranger in his ass so he simply said, “Roll over,” earning a smirk from the working man. They both pulled off their shirts and started for their pants. The break of physical contact gave Amos pause to think and his thoughts brought him back to Prax. ‘How would things go with Prax?’, he wondered. How it would feel to kiss him, to be with someone he liked. He wasn't someone who gave many thoughts to dating. He had never had a real boyfriend or girlfriend. Just people he spent time with and that included Lydia. Amos had never needed that part of life and still thought he didn't need it, but if he was being honest with himself, he wanted it. Wanted it with Prax, not whatever he was doing with Joaquin.

Who speaking of which was now naked and looking at Amos with confusion. 

“You ‘k’?”, he asked Amos, eyes darting a little to the door.

“He thinks I'm going to shake him down or beat him,” Amos thought. 

“Yeah, so look”, he warily told the other man. “We won't be doing anything tonight,” he finished, getting off the bed to put his pants back on. 

“Did I do something wrong, bossman?”, Joaquin asked, the man was still naked and seemed frightened now. “Shit,” Amos thought, “Not the vibe I was going for.”

He sat on the bed again and made a motion to Joaquin to get dressed which the other man now did in a hurry. Amos felt suddenly sober and he wasn't happy about that, but the night seemed to be more about revelations than the bender he wanted, so he rolled with it. Joaquin was walking towards the door now and Amos felt bad. Wasn’t his fault he was the wrong guy. 

“Hey, man,” he called to the belters back, “Come lay down. I paid for the night, it doesn't need to be wasted,” he told him. 

Joaquin gave a belter shrug and stiffly walked to the bed. He set his shoes down and laid next to Amos’ resting body. They both kept their clothes on. 

Amos hadn't realized he was falling asleep until Joaquin asked in an amused voice, “Awkward, no?”

“Sure as shit is now that you said something,” Amos fired back with one eye open. 

“Why you change mind, bossman?” Joaquin mused shifting in the bed to make himself more comfortable. “You got old lady back home?”

Amos wasn't going to answer but he guesses he was still drunk enough to let his inhibitions down. “Something like that,” was all he said after a time. 

“Hahaha sa sa ke,” Joaquin chortled. “Old man ain’t doing it for you anymore?”, he asked, emphasizing the “man” part.   
“You go lookin’ for the love without the love and find yourself feeling guilty. It happen before to me time to time,” he finished. 

Amos' chest burned at how right the other man was. He went looking for a substitute without the substance. The fire in his chest was guilt, but not at almost sleeping with Joaquin. He should’ve contacted Prax more. He should’ve been honest, but he wasn’t going to let the smug man next to him know that. 

“Hey, Joaquin”, he chooses to say instead. 

“Yeah, bossman?”

“Shut the fuck up and get some sleep,” Amos told him rolling over to face away. 

Amos fell into a deep sleep to the sound of Joaquin’s laughter and thoughts of how to tell Prax he was in love with him.


End file.
